


Cats

by NerdyWolfy



Series: Writing Drabbles [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 16:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyWolfy/pseuds/NerdyWolfy
Summary: That's literally what this is.What if my cats were humans?





	Cats

Dear reader, do you know the crazy families on Downside Road? Me neither.

I should probably introduce myself, or well, you could figure out that yourself. What I will tell you is the events leading up to this though. I had just moved from my old town to this one; Simmons University. Finding a street to live on (a place in general) was hard to find. These houses are not your ordinary middle-waged houses. It’s your big fancy expensive houses that cost their entire paycheck. The streets surrounding them were all gangster, bad crime rate, and horrible apartments. I didn't care whether or not this place was expensive or poor, I just didn't want a place where I would get into trouble—I tend to be gullible.

Once my mother got to the house I had described to her she simply dropped me off and helped me start unloading what was in the back seat. She loved helping me even when I told her no. She was only about twenty or twenty-five years older than me and didn't have brittle bones yet. I never had a lot of stuff so it was easy moving especially if it was done in under four hours.

“You made the good choice of picking this part of town, sweetheart,” my mother said in her honey-soothing voice, “Your meds are in the pink bag.”

“Xanax, Antidepressants, and Rozerem?” I asked her making sure they were all there. She had a tendency to forget one.

My mother nodded, “And you know you take Xanax once a day, your Antidepressants once a day, and your Rozerem twice a day?”

“Yes, mom,” I groaned not wanting to hear any more of her babble. I’ve taken them for nearly ten years, I know what I need to take and how much of it.

“Alright, alright!”

She helped me put up some stuff and settle in. After unloading my bedroom boxes and kitchen boxes we took a break. Boxes were still spread around and strode through the house. It wasn't claustrophobic but it was little space to move around. If I could I would live off of my bedroom and my kitchen. I wasn't a messy person but I wasn't tidy either.

She sighed. “My baby girl is all grown up, even living on her own. Especially with you going to vet school. You have your own job, working at the local pet shop, going to school at a high ranking university, I mean it’s the perfect life anyone would want really.”

“Thanks, mom, I worked hard for it.” I smiled at my mom which she returned the smile.

I remembered it perfectly, well almost perfectly—not everyone has an eidetic memory. She was sitting how she was ten years ago with a bright smile on her face and so excited. She was happy to have her first child since she couldn't have any herself. My father was in the kitchen fixing food (which I would soon later to find out that he was a chef at a fancy restaurant.) I was scared, to be honest, and I was scared now. Of course, I was eleven and couldn't conceal my fear then and now twenty-one which I’ve gotten better at. I learned that all men weren't mean scary giants like in the household I has previously grown up in.

She was younger then and she still looks younger now. I never knew her secrets to long-lasting youthful looks but I would just leave it at that. She now had some wrinkles forming near her eyes but that was about the only thing that made her look older. She still had soft skin that was nice to touch and her young youthful eyes. The thing about her was that people didn't think I was not her actual daughter. I looked like her then and I still do now; somewhat short white kinky hair, metal-grey eyes, and to complete it off a short stature.

“I love you, Chloe.” I guess you can tell what my name is now. “And no matter what, even when you get married, you’ll always be Chloe Akerman.”

I smiled, now almost in tears. I was hoping this trip wouldn't be filled with tears and sentimental things—the fewer emotions the easier it is. I was hoping, wishing, the memories wouldn't flood back to me. Memories of my home, my childhood. These things are surprisingly hard to repress when you’re leaving. Before I know it tears are falling and I’m crying on the sofa.

“I know sweetheart.” my mother softly spoke as she was pulling me into a hug. “It’s hard. Who knows, you’ll meet a cute guy here and fall in love?”

Love. It was a foreign concept to me though, outside of the type of love I was used to. Loving my family was the most common for me, but loving others would be harder. I never really fell in love back in high school, I never was interested. I’d seen what love did to my classmates, even if that was considered “love.” I’d seen the love between my parents but I could never understand it, not the intensity of their love—maybe it was because they were my parents and I couldn't get past that barrier.

“I love you too mom,” I whispered as my voice cracked. I was strong, and I had to be.

After a few moments of hugging with the exchanging of sniffles and the hug tightening, we finally let go. My eyes were beginning to become puffy and my nose already red. I had that habit when I cried; puffy eyes, rosy cheeks, and a red nose. That was the only thing that no one in the Akerman family had except for me. No one knew and I was glad. They didn’t need to know and I didn’t want them to know.

She sighed once again. “I’ll be going.” her voice breaking ever so slightly. “Promise me one thing.” Great, a promise I can't keep. “If you do fall in love, please promise me that you’ll still be our little girl.”

I shook my head. “I don’t even know if I will fall in love, mama.”

She shrugged. “Either you do or you don’t. Just promise me that you’ll adopt.”

We shared a hearty laugh as it was bittersweet. I never knew how hard it would hurt me or even hit me. I was leaving a home I had stayed in for ten years, a place where I had a family, a place that I called  _home._ When I was younger I played around with the thought of college, thinking it was going to be easy and that I would still stay with my mom and dad. It hurt a lot more than what I thought, hurt that I’d have to leave the people I called family and start my own.

She started to let go, and that hurt. This might be the last time I see her for a while, years even. Letting go meant she was leaving,  _letting go_ meant she was gone. I’ve felt pain before; like that one time I broke my leg or my arm but nothing like this. It hurt almost too much, but I was going to have to let it go. When she let go I wanted to pull her back. When she got up I almost tugged on her arm, my arm still lingering there as she walked away. When the door closed as a sign of her leaving I couldn't do anything—so I let it happen.

Tears started to fall harder from my eyes making my eyes even more swollen and hurt. I felt like I lost something after she left, I lost a part of  _who_ I was. I had already had this conversation with my father but he sugar-coated it making it easier for me. I never did like sugar-coating thing, but now I wish she had. I had always been independent but I guess I wasn't fully independent. When I felt broken and apart I realized something; I was going to have to fill that other part and make it my own.

When I started to have this revelation I heard a knock at the door. I didn't know anybody here so it was quite strange. I got up weakly and instead of opening the door I loudly spoke, “Who is it?”

“Your neighbors!” the voice seemed high-pitched and girly.

I slowly opened the door trying to conceal myself behind the door as much as I could. When I looked I saw five people; the first one was a man with light grey hair, looking about mid-twenties, and five foot nine, the second one was a girl with black hair with brown highlights, same age as the first, and about five foot eleven, the third was a man with blond hair, about late teens or early twenties, and about six foot one, the fourth was a girl with darker looking grey hair, the same age as the third, and five foot four, the last one was a male with black hair, younger than the third and fourth, and about five foot eight.

The fourth one spoke, “I’m Savannah Granville! This is my brother,” she motioned towards the third one, “Reagan Granville,” she motioned towards the second one, “my older sister Tamara Granville,” she motioned to the fourth one, “my second cousin Felix Horne,” she then motioned to the last one; the first one, “and this is my first cousin, the oldest, Baxter Downer.”

“Chloe Akerman.” I held out my hand to her for her to shake.

She kindly shook it with a smile that looked plastic but wasn't. “Baxter’s the oldest, he’s twenty-five, Tamara is twenty-three, Raegan and I are eighteen, and lastly Felix is seventeen. I can tell you that the Dustin family,” she pointed from the across the road, “is nice and the Abel family,” she pointed to the house right beside mine, “is also nice. Our house is the one directly across from yours.”

“Thank you,” I quietly whispered.

“So, why did you move up here?” Raegan asked as Tamara hit the back of his head.

“Ro! You don't just ask someone that! It may be because of something personal!”

“Actually,” I cleared my throat and came out from behind the door. “I moved here for Simmons University. I live too far away from the university so I moved.”

“Well then, you, Tamara, and Baxter will have no problem getting to know each other than since you all go to the same college!”

I raised an eyebrow in interest. “They go to Simmons University?”

Savannah nodded her head. “Yeah! Raegan, Felix, Samson Dustin, and I all attend Simmons High School while Jake Abel attends Simmons Middle School.”

“ _Elementary_ school,” Tamara corrected, “  _Simmons_ Elementary School.”

“No one likes a know-it-all,” Savannah snapped while making a dry laugh.

“That's Samson not Tamara, Stormy,” Baxter spoke for the first time. ”And don't fight my children. Your parents, including Felix’s, left me as your guardian—or well just the head of the household, I don't know—for the year since they’re on that business trip.”

Felix rubbed his hands together and shuffled his feet which made him wince a little. “Are you okay?” I had to ask him, he looked like he was in pain.

Felix looked up from the ground. “Ah...sorry about that, I just have sensitive hands and feet along with rhinitis.”

I stood there for a good few seconds before having a light bulb light in my head. I turned around walking back into the bedroom and grabbing the gloves that felt hot to the touch. They feel unbearable at first then it feels like you have hell on your fingers, but they might help him. I handed him the gloves. “Here, they’re gloves my dad made. He’s sorta a tech-wiz and eccentric so him making this is normal. They might help with the pain.”

He touched them before flinching back for a moment then sliding his hand in. It took him a few moments before smiling. “Actually this feels a lot better! Thank you!” he slipped the other one on.

“If they get too hot then there's a button on the back of the right hand that turns it to cold.”

Tamara stood there in shock for a moment before smiling. “He’s had nerve damage since he was a child, so it helps him.” Tamara looked at her house then back to me. “Why don't you come over to our house? You seem like you need company.”

I nearly jumped when I heard her say that. I didn't make friends easily and would latch onto anyone I could so I wasn't alone. If I were to “latch” to these people at least it would be genuine instead of fake. That's how most of my friends were back then, they’d use me and I wouldn't even know it since I was so gullible. I was hoping I would keep my guard up since I forget it's there, so I kindly accepted.

When I went inside it was absolutely gorgeous. My house was normal (about two stories and a basement) but they had everything. A pool that was year around, a deck, the house itself was about three stories. I wanted to touch something (I mean who wouldn’t?) but I was afraid to because they looked (and probably were) very expensive. Spiral stairs lead up to the second floor then regular stairs lead up to the final floor.

“Yeah, this house isn’t really anything,” Tamara explained and sighed leaning against a beam that was holding up the house.

“Are you sure about that?” I laughed. “People would kill to have this house!”

Tamara shrugged. “I guess it’s that we’ve lived here almost all of our lives and got used to the luxury.”

“So..uh,” I was absolutely amazed that I couldn’t think of simple words, “when does Simmons University start exactly?”

“Eleven o’clock today.” Tamara looked at her watch. “In exactly thirty-four minutes.”

I nearly jumped up and out of my skin when I heard her. I got here around nine thirty, so it took me almost an hour to unpack? I tried to make sure my schedule was clean for the first day and made sure I had the time to get my clothes for college. The way I was dressed was  _not_ for college or any school event. My white hair was up in a messy bun, I was wearing baggy lounge pants, and wearing a somewhat thin varsity shirt.

Tamara must’ve seen my panic, so she laughed. I was quite confused at first thinking she was laughing at my panic state or she knew I was panicking. I didn’t really know and probably never will.

“Here, your shirt and pants are fine, I’ve seen people dress sloppier. I can work with your hair though.” she dragged me up to her room (which by the way is on the third room and on the other side of the house) and sat me down in front of her dresser. “Curls or straight?”

I said the first thing that came to mind. “Curls.”

She raced from one side of the room to the other. It amazed me how fast she was going. She was quite tall for a girl, and skinny at best so it made me wonder if she was in a sport. I didn’t think to pay attention to the room. In a glass case, there were many medals and golden statues. On the walls, there were posters and flags of softball and basketball. I didn’t have it wonder why she was in those sports because I knew; she was tall.

“Ponytail? Down?”

“Ponytail.”

It took a good ten to fifteen minutes but at least I looked better than what I did. Instead of messy bun curls, it was nice and kept curls put up into a ponytail. It looked like a milk cascade instead of white water or albino something. She did better as putting makeup on me than I could ever do. I never was a makeup person or a “get up and dress like I’m on the red carpet” person, but I did know when to dress up for school.

“Also, you don't have to worry about bringing your stuff, they don't usually do anything the first day.”

I nodded. “The college isn't far from here, I can walk.”

“ _We_ can walk,” Tamara corrected, “you’re gonna need new friends. This is a new town and all.”

I made a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Tippy! Let’s go!” Baxter yelled. “We’ll be late and you know how you are about punctu-freaking-ation!”

Tamara laughed. “Tippy or Tip Tip is my nickname. Baxter’s is Smokey Joe or Boi.”

“Boy?”

“B-O-I.”

I nodded letting out a soft ‘oh’ as we went down the stairs. Baxter greeted me with a smile. “Too bad that Littleman can't give you random trivia questions.”

Tamara sighed. “Sorry for the random nicknames Chloe. Littleman is Samson, he also goes by Sheldon.”

“Jake goes by Jack or Jack Jack, Reagan goes by Ro or Roho, Savannah goes by Stormy, Felix is just well, Felix, although we sometimes call him Snowball.”

We got to the school within a reasonable time with only a minute to spare. The sun was beaming on my black pants which made my legs burn. I was used to wearing light coloured clothes and dark coloured clothes so I didn’t mind the heat. The short sleeves of my shirt helped with the heat since I was normally hot person. I got hot easily so I couldn’t wear long-sleeved shirts for a long time or they had to be thin.

The school was big in size, but I only saw very little of students walk into the university. There seem to be only about a hundred and fifty or less. Most either walked alone or in little packs like I was with Tamara and Baxter. I wondered to myself: Why was this school big, but had very little students?

“It’s a small school since it’s so expensive,” Tamara explained as if she read my mind, “but it’s so big because our careers are so diverse.”

“Really?” I looked up to Tamara with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, Baxter is going into neuropsychology while I’m going into teaching, so yes it is diverse.”

“Wouldn’t there be a lot of people then? Even if it was expensive people still would come here to learn more about their specific career path.”

“That’s the thing. Even if we do choose basic stuff like nursing or teaching other people go into more specific stuff like Forensic Psychology or something of that nature.”

The inside of the college was grander than what it looked like on the outside. There was a waterfall in the middle, the Simmons University store was straight ahead while there were hallways on the left and right side. This place seemed to have everything anyone would ever want, even dorms on campus. Barely anyone lived in the dorms because most lived on Downside Street but a fair amount lived in them. I picked living in a house because the dorms cost too much, even more than what my house is now.

“Like the school, there are a lot of teachers, about three or four for each career and we have a  _lot_ of careers here.”

“I’m going into being a social worker, so I guess that’s good.”

Tamara smiled as we took a left onto the hallway of our classes. The room was elegant, big and spacious. If I were to look at it from one way it would look as if it were made for the Queen of England or someone for a tea party— _that’s_ how elegant it was. The teacher herself even looks elegant; big curls, blonde hair, a knife pleated skirt, with a dress shirt that was tucked in, and with black-rimmed glasses. She was at her desk, which sat in the front middle of the room, looking at what seemed to be her lesson plan.

“Hello Baxter and Tamara, who is that you have with you?” she spoke at us with interest but never left her gaze from the papers from her desk.

“Chloe Akerman, I’m a first year at Simmons University,” I spoke for myself as I saw Tamara about to open her mouth.

She stopped what she was doing then started at me. “First year? I don’t get many first years, it’s mostly just second years or third years, some first and some fourth. Well, Ms. Akerman, nice to meet you.”

I smiled nodding my head. She seemed elegant and even respectful, which I didn’t receive from some of my teachers back in grade school. I followed Tamara and Baxter and sat in the front row on the left side. It was a perfect view; the window, the board, and even out into the hallway. There weren’t a lot of students in the class, just us and three others.

“Don’t think about it,” Baxter looked at me as if he knew what I was thinking. “There’s never a lot of students for this class, especially for psychology.”

“Where do most go?”

“Law Enforcement,” Baxter answered my question.

“Ah, they need that these days as well as stuff with computers.”

“That’s what Sheldon is going into,” Tippy snickered a little, “little twerp gets on my nerves about fixing a computer and hacking and this and that—“

“Tippy,” Baxter put a hand on her shoulder. “Let this end in glory not like Game Night.”

I looked confused for a moment as I looked at the two. I cocked my head to the side and looked at them. “Game Night—”

I was interrupted by Tamara hitting Baxter quite hard on the shoulder. “You  _won_ , I usually win!”

 

That’s how my day went for the remainder of the day. Tippy complaining that Baxter won and about different stuff such as her OCD and competitiveness. I listened intently hoping to learn more about them (as they were my neighbors) and get to know them. Tippy slightly scared me but Baxter had this warm motherly vibe to him that my own mother had. She showed me around the school, stopping by teachers along the way, even at a little cafe on the way to Downside Road.

“So, how do you like it here?” Tippy had a smile on her face as she held her coffee.

Before I could answer I was interrupted. “Aha,” the voice sounded maybe like younger teens? “Tippy, fancy seeing you here.”

A boy, about five foot ten, stands there with a smug grin on his face. He had his hands on his thin but somewhat muscular shape, his long legs going into what seemed to be an ‘L’ stance, and his amber eyes somewhat piercing through Tippy’s light blue eyes. He scared me slightly though, although he hadn’t done anything to me I still feared him and men in general. I had no idea who he was, nor had I seen him around here before.

“Samson,” Tippy greeted, “meet our new neighbor Chloe. Chloe, this is Samson Dustin. Also, don‘t be fooled, he’s actually fifteen.”

“He doesn’t look it,” I bluntly spoke looking at the boy—maybe it was his grey hair that made him seem a little older?

“Yup! And about to graduate high school at sixteen!” he chirped. “I would ask a question but none comes up. Anyway, I shall see you later.”

With that, the boy turned on his heels and left. He seemed to be haughty and with high demand, well that was my first thought of him. It seemed to changed when I came along. It wasn’t moments until I heard growling from in front of me.

Tippy mumbled under her breath, “That little twerp,” she looked as if she was going to say something else but did not. Note to self: Do not make Tamara Granville mad.

“We should probably be getting home. It’s getting about lunchtime,” Baxter nudged Tippy but she didn’t move, “I’ll make one of your favorite dishes.”

She looked at Baxter with her eyes widening. She licked her lips dangerously (yes, she looked as if she was going to eat or kill him.) “Last one home get’s no food,” she ran out the door and towards their home.

“Food is what gets her to move,” Baxter explained.

Baxter and I made our way back to the Granville household. “So, how competitive is Tippy?”

“I say she’s borderline crazy for one. She throws lamps, chairs, and all sorts of things when she doesn’t win, it’s horrible at her games. She’s a good player but she has to use Prozac to keep her stabilized.”

“At least I’m not the only one on medication,” I commented.

“Felix was on medication but it didn’t help his nerve damage in his hands. He’s had that since he was a child and so any utensil he uses is usually hot. Those gloves helped him though.”

We made it inside the house where there was Tippy, Raegan, Savannah, and Samson. Tippy seemed to be waiting patiently as if a little kid waiting for candy. Raegan seemed to be doing push-ups (something I’m terrible at, normally physical education in general.) Savannah seemed to be reading a book while chewing some gum, the flavor must have gone away since I couldn’t smell it. Lastly, Samson laid on the couch curled up with a blanket over him peacefully sleeping.

Tippy bounced up and down with a smile on her face (and waking up Samson.) “Your dish! Your dish!”

“You are twenty-three stop acting like a child,” Samson growled slightly hitting her.

Tippy stopped and looked at Baxter. “Goulash! It’ll last us a couple of days.”

“So will Turkey Dressing.” Raegan panted.

“Still sarcastic as ever,” Savannah sighed reading her book. Seemed to have a red casing and big letters that read ‘ _Bullseye_ ’ might have been the book by James Patterson.

“Still underage drinking?” Raegan shot back earning the book hitting his side. “Hey!”

“No fighting!” Baxter tried raising his voice but it just turned out as a soft cry. Even as a soft cry instead of a threatening tone they still obeyed and stopped. I was a bit surprised at their obedience, usually, siblings would fight but they didn’t. It was like they respected him even though he was sweet and not demanding—like a dainty deer.

Baxter left leaving only the remaining four (five counting myself) in the living room. It was a bit of an awkward silence for a long time. Baxter could have been gone for at least ten or fifteen minutes until he walked back in. Thankfully he noticed the awkward tension. “Littleman!” he hit him with a towel waking him up. “You haven’t fully introduced yourself to our neighbor.”

“What is there to introduce?” Samson groaned turning over. “I’m in debate club. I do football. I’m smarter than Tippy—”

“You are not,” Tippy emphasized, “I am smarter than you pea brains.”

“No fighting you two! Sheldon, why are you here?” Baxter put his hands on his hips.

“Because,” Samson groaned, “I want to, I’m on co-op team and I just came here for a short amount of time before I go to work. I don’t wanna go.”

“You work with the state debate team, your usual co-op days is with debate team.” Tippy raised an eyebrow. “That means you should be going back to the school.”

“I know,” he drawled, “but here is comfortable.”

 

We spent hours just talking and sharing a good time. I got to know them individually as they did me. I wasn’t really in any sports when I was younger so I wasn’t athletic and that I was adopted when I was eleven. Tippy was in basketball and softball, came from an African-Asian descent, a good cook, and that she graduated with a four point zero GPA. Baxter was surprisingly strong (as he went up against Raegan and won) and as a taste for sweets. The only way how Raegan, Stormy, and Tippy are related was of their Asian descent, although Raegan and Stormy looked more American than they did Asian. Raegan is in college football and that he knew more about the street smarts than he did intelligence wise. Stormy is a college cheerleader, that she’s quite athletic, and her favorite alcoholic beverage was whiskey (I, myself as Chloe Akerman, do not condone these actions.) Stormy was quite nice and not the preppy cheerleader I thought she would be. Lastly Littleman, well I mostly knew about him but he was high maintenance (as I saw at the shop), perverted (he made a lot of jokes), and a tomato and cheese fanatic.

We were laughing and having a good time until I heard the door swing open. “We’re home!” I heard a surprisingly young voice.

A boy, with at least shoulder length hair that was blond and with brown eyes with a green centre, walked in with a smile. He seemed to look like Raegan but a younger version. His eyes went to Baxter then he finally noticed me sitting on the couch as Tippy laid in my lap. “Who’s the girl?” Felix came in shortly thereafter with the gloves still on his hands.

“Our neighbor! Chloe Akerman! She just moved in across the street,” Stormy chirped.

“I’m Jake Abel, but they call me Jack or Little-guy.” he had a bright smile and was quite tall for his age (that I was assuming was either ten or eleven.)

“Say something about yourself,” Baxter told him, “We told her about us. You too Felix.”

Jake and Felix sat down next to each other. Littleman seemed to scowl at Jake, who just ignored it as if it was nothing. Jake explained that he was in football and that he looked up to Raegan (in which Raegan laughed and said that they practice football together.) Felix told me that he was good at history (which Tippy agreed) and that he didn’t do sports like the others. He told me that he had nerve damage when he was younger which caused him to have sensitive hands and feet.

“Littleman hates Jack because he’s jealous,” Raegan explained with a smug smile like he revealed something he shouldn’t have.

“I am not jealous!” Littleman yelled, “I don’t get along with him!”

“But I like you.” Jack whined, “you hate me.”

“I,” Littleman made a short pause, “do not.”

Jack huffed and crossed his arms looking away. Assuming as a child he’s trying to ignore him by pretending he’s not there. Children would usually do that if they get angry at someone, at least I did so. Littleman had his mouth open, probably to retort or console him, but was interrupted by a ding. Baxter stood to his feet and went to the kitchen saying, “Goulash is done!” everyone cheered except for me.

I looked around confused as some got up to leave to the kitchen. “What’s Goulash?”

Everyone stopped in their tracks and stood there as if they were a statue. To be honest it started to scare me as if it was in a horror movie. They slowly turned around with bewilderment written on their faces. “You don’t know what Goulash is?”

I shook my head at them as they gasped. Stormy fell to the floor as if she was passing out, Tippy had a hand on her mouth, and Raegan has his mouth opened. “You’ve got to try it!” Tippy jumped up dragging me into the kitchen.

 

Well, this is where my first day ends. I’ve known them for a good five months now and I’ve seen everything—including Game Night.

Tippy (Tamara) is a bit OCD and when you upset that you upset her. She can be quite scary while angry. I’ve gotten to know Tippy a bit more than the rest of them and we’ve gotten along quite well.

Boi (Baxter) cooked a lot for us, he was like that grandma that fed you too many cookies and would feed you more even though you were starting to get repulsed by them. He was sweet and liked to cuddle a lot, he’s made a lot of us cuddle with him.

Stormy (Savannah) got better at lowering her alcohol intake, her grades went from C’s and B’s to A’s and some B’s. She helped me get a little more athletic but overall I was still as I was.

Ro (Raegan), well, I never really see him often, I still do though. He usually is running outside or working out (usual two or three hundred pushups a day.) I see him but I mostly see him at dinner.

Felix got better at using the gloves for everyday use. He got better at English and Math when I started helping him and started to make from D’s and C’s to C’s and B’s. He started to speak more as well, we even indulged in an interesting topic just a few days ago.

Littleman (Samson), still a high maintenance and know-it-all. He usually eats tomato’s than he does cheese. He doesn’t even cut it up, just straight up eats it, he always has a packet of salt with him as well. He and Tippy always have their daily questions for each other and debate about political views as well.

Jack (Jake) practices with Raegan but not as much as Ro usually does. He reads a lot more than what I thought, books that are above his grade and well beyond his thinking skills. He usually tells me summaries of what the book was about and why he chose it. Sometimes it may just be, “It was a game of Book Roulette,” or “the storyline seemed interesting.”

I, well, got better with my fear of men. Since I had been abused as a child by my biological father I was afraid of men even if I didn’t know them, but everyone helped me control it and learn that all men were terrible. Here I felt as if it was home away from home, which was good for the homesickness I had gotten for the first few days. Everyone fools around, sometimes we do crazy stuff (one time Stormy scaled a building to get to her class), and we always as the usual Friday Game Night.

Well, dear reader, I know hope you know the “crazy families” on Downside Road. It’s been nice writing this.


End file.
